Remus is pretty sure that his friends are rubbing off on him. And not in a good way. A polite boy, he's always been known as. The good one out of the lot. He just radiates innocence when you put him alongside his mates—Hogwart's troublemakers, and good ol' Moony. Except, well, he's currently hovering over you in the library and jabbing an accusing finger in your face. All you can really do is sit in your chair and take the verbal lashing from him.

"You know what I really hate?" He muses as he glares down at you. It's a look that seems to pierce your soul, demanding explanations and justifications; as if it's your fault that you're in this position right now. "Pseudo-intellectuals like you, pretending at enlightenment. You may think you're deep, but we both know your thoughts are more shallow than a puddle."

Yes. This absolutely all started because you've been excelling in your shared classes. Enough to knock him off his podium, anyways, and he has half your year ridiculing him for falling off and 'letting you get ahead of him.' He's not used to being in a second place; this is the only thing he has.

"You're a stain on the canvas of intellectual discourse," he continues when he gets no reply. "Your existence is a mockery of everything I stand for. You're the embodiment of mediocrity. What, you get a few good test scores and you think you're above me, do you?"

He barks out a laugh. Sharp and humourless, like thunder in the night. You aren't sure whether to be genuinely intimidated by this new side of him or just amused that he's really this riled up over his score in a Transfiguration test. All you can really do is sit there and look up at him with a stunned expression, unsure how to respond. No matter what you say, it seems highly likely that it’ll be taken the wrong way–should you even bother trying to placate him?

It's not as if you have anything to apologise for. Yeah. For someone who claims to embody intelligence, he’s certainly acting childishly.